


Sometimes I dream of the machine

by partialresonance



Series: Comfort in Quarantine [2]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Armitage Hux is Bad at Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gingerpilot, Hux says sweet stars, Hux unknowingly quotes DJ, M/M, Nightmares, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, References TLJ, There there dont be cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23279443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partialresonance/pseuds/partialresonance
Summary: Prompt by @HuxRagdoll on Twitter: "Not a very original idea but I'm always so soft for comforting each other after a nightmare. Maybe a scene where Poe has one reliving the exegol battle so Hux tries to comfort him. But Hux is so awkward and repressed he's rubbish at comforting people, he tries his best tho!"
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Series: Comfort in Quarantine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672642
Comments: 11
Kudos: 72





	Sometimes I dream of the machine

In Poe’s dreams, he hears the screams of every stormtrooper and officer on every Star Destroyer as the fleet is incinerated above Exegol.

The ships start to fall like black playing cards fluttering in the wind. Blue lightning jumps from bridge to bridge as Rey and Ben struggle with the darkness in the Sith temple below. The smell of brimstone and scorched metal sears the air and Poe watches from the safety of his X-wing cockpit as the last Star Destroyer, an arrowhead-shaped slab the color of granite, lilts to one side and begins to fall.

He hears Hux crying out from the bridge, hears his own fist banging on the wall of the transport above Crait as he watches in helpless agony while his friends disappear into fiery bursts of orange. Poe twists away from it, only to find Leia looking at him with disappointment heavy in her grey eyes.

The galaxy tilts around him in a gut-wrenching spiral and suddenly he is on the hangar of the _Supremacy._ Finn and Rose are on their knees in front of him and before he can even cry out they die at the hands of a stormtrooper with his own face, with his mother’s ring on a necklace that stands out stark against the plastic sheen of their white armor.

Hux writhes in agony at his feet, a gaping hole in his chest spilling blood that still boils from blaster fire.

Poe screams his throat raw.

“Dameron.”

The voice is cold, and vaguely annoyed. Poe claws towards it. Smoke and screams swirl around him, threatening to pull him back down.

“ _Dameron.”_

The voice is insistent. Impatient. Nevertheless, it lights a familiar warmth in the pit of his stomach. Poe wrenches to the side, eyes flying open, drawing in a quick, raw breath around the keening moan still tumbling from his lips.

“Sweet stars, Dameron. Wake up. _Dameron._ Poe?”

Poe is shaking as he scrabbles at the sheets. He blinks, trying to orient himself in the dark.

A light flicks on and he sees Hux sitting up in bed, looking down on him with a calculating, puzzled expression. Poe, trembling from fear and the cold sweat covering every inch of his skin, sighs and flings himself on the other man. He wraps his arms around Hux’s skinny, pale waist, burying his face in Hux’s abdomen.

Hux hesitantly pats the top of Poe’s head.

There is an awkward silence stretching between them as Poe tries to extricate himself from the sense of doom and dread that ensnared him during the dream. But the longer he touches Hux the more he’s reminded of the people he’s lost, of the people he’s killed. Hux could have been one of them. There was a time, during the war, when Poe would have celebrated his death.

The thought is enough to break him, in the quiet fragility of the night. Poe squeezes Hux tighter as the tears swim up, hot and prickly and unavoidable. He sucks in a juddering breath and hears Hux sigh.

“What’s the matter?” He definitely _sounds_ annoyed, but he always sounds annoyed, and the way he cards his slender fingers through Poe’s hair brings a relief like nothing else could.

“Bad dream,” Poe mumbles into the soft flesh of Hux’s stomach.

“Well, it was just a dream,” Hux says briskly. “Best forget about it, whatever it was.”

Poe chuckles, closing his eyes.

“Can’t, babe. Sometimes dreams feel really…real.”

“It’s no use crying over it.” The hand in his hair smooths down the curls at the back of his head, then curls protectively over his nape. Poe nods, biting his lip. Hux sighs again. “But I suppose you wish to talk about it?”

“That might help.”

“Fine.” Another sigh. “Come here, then.” Hux sits up further so that his back is all the way propped against the wall and nudges Poe up as well. “I can’t hear you if you’re sniveling against my navel.”

Poe snorts, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand as he rests his head on Hux’s shoulder. He places one hand flat on Hux’s stomach, something about the warmth there infinitely comforting to him.

“Well, it was sort of about Exegol.”

Hux snorts.

“You mean the Resistance victory? Hardly something to cry over, Dameron.”

Poe sighs.

“I know it’s hard for you to think about. Sorry for bringing it up. It’s just…I think a lot about everyone who died that day. It just doesn’t feel worth it, somehow.”

“Hmm.” Hux strokes Poe’s back almost as an afterthought.

“It’s like—you know my friend Finn?”

“I know the former stormtrooper, FN-2187, whose designation you insist on mispronouncing.”

“He likes the name Finn.” Poe shushes Hux with a gentle nudge to his ribs. “Anyway, I just keep thinking about how many others like him there must have been on all those ships.”

“I reviewed the casualty reports myself,” Hux says softly, in his dangerous voice. “Would you like to know?”

“No.” Poe says it firmly, quickly, with a shudder. He can’t bear to hear the numbers. He knows they’re high. Impossibly so. “And anyway it’s not just them, it’s also Crait, and…” His throat closes up again, more tears pricking at his eyes. Kriff, he’d grown soft in the last few years. “You,” he chokes out. “All those times we were on different sides and I had your ship in my crosshairs…”

“Surely you can’t blame yourself for the entire _war,_ Dameron.” Hux sounds like he is at the peak of exasperation at this point. “I knew you were stupid and arrogant when I married you but this is delusional.”

“Stars, Hux, go easy on me.”

“No. This is foolish. I won’t have you making yourself upset and hysterical. You have done nothing wrong and that’s the end of it. Stop feeling bad.”

Poe takes a beat to absorb that, then bursts into quiet, helpless laughter.

“You can’t just _order_ me to feel better.”

“I can, and I have.” Hux rubs Poe’s arm briskly and places a swift kiss on Poe’s forehead.

“Kriff, I love you.” Poe buries his face in the crook of Hux’s neck and shoulder but it’s somehow not enough contact, so he swings his leg over Hux until he’s straddling him, settling into the thinner man’s lap. He starts peppering kisses over Hux’s neck and chest.

His hands slide down Hux’s sternum, fingers skating over the rough scar tissue of the old blaster wound, and wow, but Poe is really caught up in his feelings tonight. He bows his head, rocking forward so the top of his head is pressed against the front of Hux’s throat, penitent and shameless in his vulnerability.

“I’ve made so many mistakes,” Poe whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. “I know you don’t care but I still think about the day I sent Rose and Finn on that stupid mission. The people we lost over Crait. That…I lost. I was such a damn fool back then. And I should’ve taken you with me when you saved me and Finn, I regret that every day.” Poe’s hands skate up and down Hux’s sides as he swallows past a lump in his throat.

“Dameron.” Hux’s voice is softer now, in contrast to the way that his hands press urgently against Poe’s naked back. “If you believe your actions which caused the loss of a few hundred members of your military to be so irredeemable then what must you think of mine?”

“That’s different, Hugs,” Poe says quickly. “You didn’t have a choice—”

“Everyone has a choice. I made the decision, you know I did. Whether or not Snoke required it of me is irrelevant. If I had refused I would have died but it didn’t even cross my mind. You certainly would have. You’d sacrifice yourself to save billions. That’s something I’ll never understand, didn’t even consider. You’re a good man, Poe Dameron, a far better man than I ever had the chance to be. If you doubt yourself much more I’m afraid of where that will leave me.”

Poe shakes his head, firmly.

“You attacked your enemy. I lost my own people. It’s different.”

“Yes.” Hux hums, one hand cupping the back of Poe’s head, the other arm wrapping around his shoulders. “It was different. It was war. And it’s in the past, now. I fail to see what you gain from torturing yourself after it’s all said and done.”

“Well,” Poe laughs mirthlessly, “I can’t really control my dreams.”

“No, I suppose you can’t.” Poe looks up to see Hux’s mouth twist into a dissatisfied frown. Hux cups Poe’s face in both hands, looking at him like he’s a particularly finicky device, like Hux can solve this as he would any other engineering problem. “What can I do? I feel as if I’m talking you in circles without making you feel any better. I’m no good at this.”

“Yes, you are.” Poe’s dark eyes shine as he drinks in the sight of his husband with love and concern open on his face. Poe kisses him soundly. “Just be here, Hugs. That’s all I need. Being here with you makes me feel like everything was worth it.”

“Hmm.” Hux hums again as he accepts the kiss, reciprocates, his fingers stroking the line of Poe’s jaw. After a moment he pulls back, just enough to murmur into Poe’s lips, eyes half-lidded.

“I do have something that might make you feel a bit better. Something to _say,_ ” Hux clarifies, when Poe raises his eyebrows suggestively, “You lecherous cretin.”

“Shoot, Hugs. I want to hear whatever you have to say.”

“We were part of a machine.” Hux strokes the shell of Poe’s ear, scrapes his palm along Poe’s stubble. “Inextricable from its function, enacting its will. Both of us always trying to live up to the expectations placed on us by our commanders and forebears. Even as the galaxy changed around them. Around us. People died, that’s the way of things. I’m simply glad you weren’t one of them.”

“Same here, buddy. Same here.”


End file.
